


Nothing Gonna Wake You Now

by MadamBluehouse



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: A lot of kissing, F/M, It is my first story on this site please forgive me if I get anything wrong, Kissing, basically Hades being a big child and Persephone being his Queen, one-shots collection, prompt lists, sleeping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21987271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadamBluehouse/pseuds/MadamBluehouse
Summary: A collection of slumber-themed one-shots on Hades and Persephone, based on a self-created prompt-list focusing on sleeping. Ratings differ.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Hadestown)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 70





	1. Ride That Train 'til the End of the Line (2. Falling asleep on car ride home & 9. Napping with head on the other's lap)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She looked up again when he didn't respond and was surprised to see his head already dropped to his front, his jaw touching his chest and his form rocking back and forth along with the rhythm of the train's movement.

Persephone glanced up when she heard the high and lonesome whistle of the train.

Hades was late.

Not as early as he was, at least. Last year, the leaves were still glowing green when he came up on top; this year, a couple of them were starting to turn yellow. One fell off the tree when the train passed by, causing the trees to shudder.

A frost of tension climbed up her spine as Persephone watched the train enter the station. He had said that they would try again next fall when they parted that spring. Had he waited for her as he had promised, or resumed back to his old habits of destroying what was by building up what he thought would be?

The leaf flew down swinging like a feather and the icy feeling continued its way up, but she caught it in her throat. She would not let doubts poison her mind like her man. One of them had to be the confident one in this relationship.

It took forever for the train to finally stop still, but forever seemed to be less than a moment.

The train gave out a final whistle as the leaf landed on the dry grasses. Hermes was already waiting at the platform, her bags in his hands. He seemed indifferent to their lightness, Persephone noticed. She supposed he knew that she wouldn't be bringing all the bottles and tins since she hadn't stormed into his bar demanding them. He wouldn't be surprised about that either, she thought. That was her way of trying, after all.

“Ain't like him,” said Hermes, from the corner of his mouth, “that old man of yours, waiting for ya til September.”

“Always so impatient,” she tried to chuckle, but what came out sounded more like a whimper.

The door swung open as if the man inside had heard her and had to prove her right.

Hades stumbled down the train in his old suit, those old shades and a black hat he used to wear up on top before the train. His back was slightly more bent than usual, Persephone noticed. His eyes were fixed on her, yet he let his gaze scanned across the station before walking up to them.

Persephone reached out a hand to him, and without a second thought, he clasped his hands around it, his thumb gently rubbing her palm.

He opened his mouth and inhaled, but closed it before any words can escape from it, and reopened it a moment later, “I'm… sorry for being late.”

She raised her free hand to cup his face, “You're still early.”

“I still missed ya,” whispering, Hades twitched his head to kiss her hand.

Persephone felt the corner of her own lips rise, spontaneously. She pulled back her hand on his lips to remove his sunglasses. He let her take it but pulled back when she tried to get rid of his hat. She frowned, not in disapproval, but in confusion. Mostly.

“What's up?” she asked, concerned, “Something wrong with your hair?”

“Tell ya later,” he said as her hand slid down to rest on his shoulder, “on the train.”

She nodded and turned to make her way to the train, pulling him along. Hermes had put her luggage at one of the doors of their car, himself, nowhere to be seen. In another car, probably; he always had plenty of messages to deliver to the underground.

He tossed her bags under the seats before closing the door at each end of the car; closing, not locking, which meant that he wasn't planning on doing anything… intimate, and that meant they would be talking.

And for once, Persephone wasn't sure if talking would be a good idea. They should talk, they needed to talk and she should be glad they would finally be actually talking, yet everytime they talk, it never ended without an argument, and she finally understood why her husband tended to avoid talking as much as he could.

Hades sat next to her on her bench, instead of the one across it, and took her hand. The train blew its whistle again and started chugging its way down the rail road track. Neither of them spoke for a good few moments; was he waiting for her to make the first move again?

She reached out for his hat, “Get rid of that, you don't need it here.”

He let her take it, and hold it with his free hand as hers smoothed his hair. It was slightly ruffled, mostly because of the hat, but there was no big deal with it. Her hand slid down to hold his jaw. Gently, she turned his face towards her.

His eyes met hers. Those deep brown eyes, surrounded by shadowed rings, had lost their shine. The eyes bags underneath were as heavy as his eyelids, which almost covered the redness at the corner of his eyes. He was tired, visibly, which was strange. He had worked himself to the ground rather often, but she had never seen him so exhausted. What happened?

“Hades…”

He chuckled, “Now you see why I didn't let ya take it off at the station.”

She smiled, humour, after all, was a good sign, “What, you're afraid of Hermes seeing ya with these eye bags?”

Hades shook his head, “No, just thought that your ma might be… ”

“No worries, ma didn't know that you were coming. Should have known, now, though.” She gave him a kiss on his lips, a light peck, nice and quick, it was somehow, strangely charming of him to be nervous, “But I am very glad that my husband is worried about his looks in front of his mother-in-law.”

He leaned in for one more kiss, then another, and another. She stopped him by cupping his face with both hands, “Hades…” 

“Hmmm?”

“When was the last time ya slept?”

“… A week ago,” he whispered, his lips tickling her as he did so.

“A week ago?” She pulled away to take a good look of him, but kept their faces close enough for their foreheads to be touching, “What have you been doing?”

“Work.”

She rolled her eyes. It was work of course, what else could it be? “On what?”

“The wall.” 

She caught a glimpse of panic washing over his face as he added, “The wall's coming down, lover. Had to find a way to deal with the bricks and stones.” 

“And did you?”

“Gonna use some of them to build a couple of roads in Hadestown, the rest, no idea.”

“Roads?”

“Better for the workers. Better for everyone, actually. If there is not a fair sky above, at least we've got a kind road below.”

She smiled at that and kissed him again, “You came up with this idea?”

“No,” it was he who pulled back this time, “you won't believe who did.”

She leaned back against the cushioned back of the bench. The sparkle in his eyes confirmed that the person he mentioned was the same as the one in her mind.

“Oh,” she raised an eyebrow, “no way.”

“Yes,” he grinned, reclaiming her hand.

She squeezed his hand with a long forgotten tenderness, “How is the girl?”

“I assigned her to be one of those demolishing the wall, in May, I think. Nowhere to be seen, since then.” He was looking at her in the eyes as he spoke. Was he scared that she would not approve what he did? Definitely, Persephone knew Hades well enough to know how insecure he was, especially when it came to her. She offered him a smile of assurance, and he continued, “Then one day she just… popped up and suggested we build a road with those bricks. The workers seemed to like that. I'd figured that you'd like that too.”

She brought another hand to their joined ones, “Well, you're right.”

“What about the boy?”

“Same as the girl,” Persephone sighed as Hades brought her hands to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles, his silent way of comforting her, “left his lyre and poems at Hermes'. No idea where he is now. Is the girl still… waiting for him?”

He nodded, “Don't think she would be starting a new life without him.” She watched as he leaned back and closed his eyes; she would let him take the rest that he deserved. She looked down at their interlaced fingers, and sighed again, “Hope we will be seeing him down there soon, then.”

She looked up again when he didn't respond and was surprised to see his head already dropped to his front, his jaw touching his chest and his form rocking back and forth along with the rhythm of the train's movement.

His face when he was asleep was charmingly boyish. A familiar yet alien feeling of warmth and longing exploded in her chest, and she gasped. She felt like she was seeing the man she had fallen in love with for the first time in a very, very long time, and it wasn't just because of the calmness on his face.

She drew the curtains as silently as she could, although it was dark and getting darker as the train roamed further into their kingdom of dirt. She knew how sensitive her husband was to light after all the years he had spent underground, and she knew what a light sleeper he was, too.

Slowly, she guided his head to rest upon her shoulder after rejoining him on the bench. It was heavier than she recalled. His hair was different from the way it had been the last time they had sat together like that. It had just begun to go grey back then, silvery spots sprouting here and there, but at the moment, it was as white as bones and ashes. 

The scent, however, was the same. The pungent smell of smoke and iron, mixed with dirt and a hint of sweetness that resembled the sickeningly sweet smell of rotting flesh, but was also similar to to smell of nectar dripping from asphodels. She knew she had this sweet smell in her scent, too. She remembered smelling it on their sheets with her face buried in their bed, him taking her from behind, his scent and hers of spring flowers and autumn leaves, sharing the same sugary scent. She had been both aroused and disgusted by the fact of it, but now, all she felt was love, love, love, and she was already kissing his hair before realizing it.

She ran her hand over his hair again and again. The feeling of these smooth white threads and those scratchy short needles over his temple was addicting. His hair was getting messy again, she noticed, was it because of her? Didn't matter, it wasn't like his hair had been tidy when she took off that hat. Still, she caressed it in the attempt to smooth it down. A smile broke upon her face as she remembered seeing his ridiculous bed head for the first time and giggling at it every morning in the early years of their marriage. He would always lower his head and let her smooth it and kiss her neck as she did so.

Her attention lowered to his eyes. It might be due to the dim light, but the dark rings and eye bags seemed to have faded a bit, unlike the wrinkles at the corner or his eyes, which were no new arrivals. Some of them were already there when she first followed him into the world underneath, the others, she could not recall. However, she was sure all of them had grown longer and deeper over the years, stretching out like spiderwebs. She laughed a little at that thought, those deep brown eyes, now lidded, did look like a pair of spiders creeping on their nets with their sharp, calculated movements.

The train shook for a second, and their car trembled with it. Some bricks or rocks in the rail road track, probably; Hades would definitely want to deal with them later. Persephone looked down to check upon him. One of his eyes had opened a crack, and he grunted. He might not be a heavy sleeper, nor a frequent one, but he didn't like being interrupted in his nap, either.

“Shhhhh,” she soothed, her fingers dancing back to his forehead to caress it with her palm, “ain't there yet. Sleep.”

And he did, his head sliding to her chest as he shut his eyes closed again. Not a comfortable position for both of them, she thought. As softly as she could, she lifted his head and put it onto her lap. There, right and natural. Seemed more comfortable for him too, his eyebrows were more relaxed.

She debated turning on the lights as they went deeper and it got darker. She was afraid of waking him up, but she wished to watch him sleep, too. Her big old man, napping on her lap like a boy drunk with love, was a sight she would hate to miss.

Then they entered the town. The dim light from the lampposts along the railroad illuminated their car, bright enough for Persephone to see Hades properly even through the curtains but not to wake him up. The town was a lot less bright then it had been when she had left, she noticed. So, he had been trying. That thought of it made trying again together seem so much easier, even though she knew it wasn't.

She traced her thumb up and down one of his ears as her knuckles rubbed his scratchy beard, which always tickled her chin and cheeks when she kissed him. His earlobe bounced under her touch. She adored the sound he would make when she nipped on it. It never failed to drive him mad, and she loved to have him wrapped around her fingers. The redness that blossomed from his ears under her mouth was another reason why she loved sucking on his ears. He looked terribly adorable when the blush spread from his ears to his cheeks to his entire face, and eventually his neck. A torturingly sensual sight too, that.

She spent a good amount of time running her hand up and down his jaw before taking it on his left arm to count the bricks on it, which she knew formed the wall that extended from his arm to his chest and down his torso. She had done that for countless times, and each time, the number she got was different.

He wasn't wearing his watch as usual and she wondered why, but she was soon distracted. Feeling the ichor flowing under his wrist, she tracked his veins up his hand and examined his rings on those big fingers. 

The silver skull lied heavily on his index finger, a symbol of a king's power and position. On his ring finger was his marriage ring. She clinked it with hers together and found the sound pleasing. Humming that old melody of theirs, she repeated the clank over and over again. It echoed throughout the car as their rings sparkled together in the light leaking through the curtains.

They made one final clink when the train blew its hollow whistle again and began to slow down. She thought he would wake up when the train finally stopped at the station, but he remained in deep sleep. He would definitely begin to drool if he slept any longer, she thought. Wait, was he drooling? Oh, her big old idiot.

His eyes fluttered open when she tried to lift his head to stand. The dark rings were still present, but the eye bags had disappeared.

“Hey,” she smiled as her hand went back to his cheek.

“Hey,” he echoed, looking up at her, adorably confused. A few moments passed while they stared at each other.

Finally, Hades sat up. “How long… how long had I been asleep?”

“How long do you think?”

He peeked outside the window through the curtains, as if he was confirming if they had really arrived home. “Oh,” he muttered, “on your lap… the whole time?”

“No,” her smile grew wider, “on my shoulder, at first, but pretty much, yes.”

“Oh, ugh,” he stuttered, like a child realizing that he had been caught, “I'm, um, sorry about that.”

“It's fine. I enjoyed it quite a lot, actually.”

His eyebrows rose in surprise, “You do?”

Persephone couldn't help but chuckle, “Well, my man was quite handsome in his sleep. I would like to watch him sleep again soon, in our bed, if he may.”

“Gladly,” he rose, offering his hand, which she took without hesitation.

She had some trouble getting up with her legs numb. She wasn't aware of that. It took her awhile to be able to stand properly, even with his arm as support.

Suddenly, one of his arms were wrapped around her back, and the other above her hips. She snapped it off and laughed, “What are you doing?”

“What do you think?”

“Don't pick me up,” she chuckled as his arms went to her shoulders instead, “you'd drop me in this state.”

“Okay,” he murmured, guilty in his eyes, “sorry.”

“Oh come on,” both of her hands went behind his neck, “you know I don't mind.” Whether she was refering to the numbness of her legs or being picked up or being dropped, she wasn't sure, but she knew he got the meaning.

And there he was, pulling that serious, loving face and looking down at her again. “I love you,” he mumbled and kissed her.

“Hmmmm.”

“I love you so much,” he repeated and kissed her again. A good kiss it was, long and soft and sweet. She pulled him closer by the neck, though there wasn't much distance left between them. He seemed to like her attempt, though, as his hands went up to cup her face as he gave her another kiss, a shorter one this time, but just as sweet. “Love ya, too,” she whispered while intertwining his fingers and hers and he grinned, kissing her once more.

“Let's go, lover. Gotta get ya in bed before you pass out.”

“Okay,” said Hades as Persephone pulled him down the train and out of the station, letting her take the reigns.

“Think they should have got one of the roads paved, the one from the town to our palace.”

“Good,” she remarked, “always easier to walk with a kind road below.”

But they both knew that, even without the road, they would still be walking beside each other. 

Any way the wind blew.


	2. Suddenly the Sunlight, Bright and Warm, Suddenly I'm Holding the World in My Arms (26. Being carried to bed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don't have to,” he said, shifting his hands to carry her, a hand under her back, his other arm behind her knees. “This good?”  
>  “Hmmmm,” she hummed, her arms hung around his shoulders.  
>  She was not exactly light to carry, not heavy, either. Not a challenge for him at all, though he still struggled for a bit to open the door while holding her.

Hades knew it was his wife when she slammed open the door without knocking. 

Sighing, he dropped the pen in his hand and looked up to see Persephone stumbling into his office, her brown locks flowing wildly after her. The pen rolled down the clothed wooden desk, leaving a trail of ink on an empty piece of paper. 

Her hands landed heavily on the edge of his desk as his attention shifted back to her. Her light brown knuckles were white from holding onto the wood too tenaciously. Or maybe it was from holding wine bottles all night long. Knowing Persephone, both seemed to be perfectly reasonable.

He looked up and stole a glimpse of her collar bone, exposed above her black dress and glazed with sweat. His throat felt slightly drier that it should be when he brought his gaze upward to meet her eyes.

For a couple of moments, they were just staring at each other, silent, motionless. He looked down at his documents but still felt her gaze burning on him.

Unsettled, he blinked and managed to spit out, “What do you want?” It was intended to be a neutral question but sounded more like a taunt of annoyance, or the stutter of a nervous schoolboy. Hades wasn't sure which one was closer to his tone, but neither was a nice one to speak in in that situation.

“As if you care,” she huffed, turning her back to him and sitting on his desk. He sighed again. She would always find a way to start an argument, especially when she was drunk. Wasn't her fault, honestly. There were way too many reasons for her to be angry at him. But why did he feel irritated by her?

“People come to my office for business, the door's open if you don't know yours,” he said, trying to sound indifferent rather than angry. No need to make things worse at the moment when all he wanted was anything but them shouting at each other. Not a smart decision to argue with a drunk person, either.

She gave him a look that immediately made him regret what he had said. For a brief moment, she looked hurt, which made him wonder if he had spoken too coldly. Before he realized it, he had shifted his hand to cover hers. Whether it was out of concern or a need to apologize or to comfort her, he wasn't sure, but it seemed to be the right thing to do.

All the guilt in him faded away when she yanked her hand away from his, her eyes filled with fury. “Since when am I not allowed to come to my husband without business?”

Shaking his head, he picked up his pen even though he couldn't remember what he had been writing, hoping she would leave seeing his apathy.

But instead of leaving, Persephone turned around to face him again and banged the desk with her clenched fist and sneered, “Business is more important than me now, isn't it?”

A certain string in him broke upon that. He stood up and snapped, “How dare you accuse me of thinking so!?”

“You’re telling me that it ain't the truth? That you don't bury your head in those damned files and instead of giving a shit about your wife?”

“You're talking like you give a damn about me when you just leave me every spring!”

“You're talking like I have a choice!” she shouted, throwing herself onto the chair on the other side of his desk. He opened his mouth to speak but realized be didn't know what to say.

She continued, “You're talking like I have a choice! The mortals are suffering and what else can I do?”

“If your mother doesn't throw a fit every time you are away and surround the upper world in cold—”

“And you surround the Underworld in heat when I'm away. What makes you better than her, Hades?”

He stared at her with his a slightly dropped jaw. He closed it and frowned when he noticed she was looking at him in the face again, waiting for him to speak.

“If she hadn't demand you back like that I wouldn't have—”

“What, it is my fault now?” she lashed out, suddenly standing up and pulling at the collar of his shirt.

She pulled until their foreheads were touching. He stared at her in shock. The room went quiet and all he could hear was her breathing and his own heart thundering in his chest. She was waiting for him to break the silence again, he thought, but he was at a lost of what to say and what to do.

Her brown eyes were red and puffy and getting watery, he noticed. He hoped it was because of the alcohol instead of him.

Giving him a final angry glare, she let go of his shirt and sat back on her chair. 

And to Hades' surprise, she began to cry.

And that all it took to melt him. He swallowed as she buried her face in her hands, her elbows on his desk. Hesitantly, he reached out a hand to run it over her springy curls. It was a reddish shade of brown, like black oak wood, with strips of blonde in the end that looked like liquid sunlight. It looked exactly the same as it was when he ran his hand in it for the first time. He inhaled. She was still so much younger than him after all those years.

“Fuck you,” she grumbled, but let him stroke her hair anyway. “Why is it so hard?” she sobbed, her voice already trembling.

“I know,” he muttered, “I know.” 

“You and ma, you are tearing me apart. Why is it so hard, Hades?”

She was tearing him apart too, he thought, but kept himself from saying it and focused on her. Trailing down her fingers and wrist, her tears pooled on the desk and the ink expanded on the soaked paper as she leaned into his touch, sobbing wetly. 

“Persephone…” It was a soft, unintended whisper, and he doubted she would hear it. But she did, and she looked up upon hearing it, her face flaming red from the crying and the drinking. She was waiting for him to do something, he realized, hoping that he would do something.

But since when had he known what to do?

Still, he opened his arms for her, and muttered, “Come.”

And she was in his arms in a heartbeat, her face buried in his shoulder, wetting his clothes as his hand moved to rub circles on her back. He could smell the alcohol on her now, whiskey and another type of drink that he couldn't name. The smell of liquor filled his nose and made him feel drunk himself. His hold on her tightened, automatically, and she seemed to find it reassuring as her whole form was leaning onto him now.

“I missed you,” she whimpered, her breath hot on his shoulder, “didn't get to actually see ya since I got back.”

“Missed you, too” he replied, his hand climbing up to her hair again.

“Fuck you.”

He gave out a sad chuckle, as if that was even possible, “ You're drunk.”

“I know,” she sighed, closing her eyes, “won't be, can't be here if I'm not.”

The spark in his stomach relit. What did she mean by that she wouldn't be there with him if she hadn't been drunk? Why was she even there if she really resented him that much?

But it went off at once when he saw her sad, fragile face looking at him. His free hand went to her cheek to stroke it with his fingertips, “It's hard.”

She nodded, throwing her slender yet soft arms around his shoulders, “It's hard.”

“I'm sorry.” She just squeezed his shoulder in reply and laid her head on his other shoulder.

He lost track of time as they stood, embracing each other in silence, and he smiled. Wouldn't be much to complain about if they just stood together like that for eternity. She seemed to be everywhere, her tears on his shirt, her hair around his hand, her cheek on his fingertips, her forehead on his shoulder, her smell of flower and wine in his nose, and all of that felt perfect to him.

He couldn't recall how long it had been since he had last held his wife like that. He couldn't imagine how long he would be able to hold her with his naked hands like that, either.

And he certainly didn't know how long she had been asleep on his chest.

Noticing that she hadn't moved in a long while, he looked down and saw her sleeping soundly, her face on his chest. Those dark eyelashes were longer than they were in his memory, and that was when he remembered he hadn't taken his time to have a proper look of her face in a very, very long time.

Her lips still parted in her sleep the same way though; air coming out through a small crack that closed when she breathed in and re-emerged when she exhaled again. A sudden urge to kiss those lips sparked in his chest, but he repressed it, worried that doing so might wake her, and kissed her forehead instead, then the top of her head. He sniffed the scent of flowers in her hair like a drug addict. He had missed her painfully bad.

Gently, he rested his chin upon her head and sighed. It might not be a healthy thing, but he was… glad that she was drunk. Persephone would never let herself cry in front of him, let alone let him hold her as she sobbed, when she was sober. Things were simpler when she was drunk, and he wondered if they would be that way if he was drunk for once. Drunk Persephone might be trying to pull at his nerves all the time, but at least she paid him attention instead of trying to pretend that he along with his neon lights and factories didn't exist.

Hades looked down as he felt his wife moved in his arms. “Did I wake you?” She opened her eyes and shook her head before turning her head to nuzzle her cheek against his chest. “Still tired?”

“Kinda. ”

“Let's go to bed,” he suggested, slowly pulling away. But her arms tightened around his shoulders.

“I don't wanna move,” she murmured, her eyelids hanging heavily above those dark sepia irises. Ready to fall back to sleep again any_ moment, he thought.

“Don't have to,” he said, shifting his hands to carry her, a hand under her back, his other arm behind her knees. “This good?”

“Hmmmm,” she hummed, her arms hung around his shoulders.

She was not exactly light to carry, not heavy, either. Not a challenge for him at all, though he still struggled for a bit to open the door while holding her. He didn't bother to close the door. No one would dare to enter or even look into his office, anyway. 

As stably as he could, he made his way to their bedroom. The air in the corridor was chilly, but the lady in his arms kept him warm. Still, he shivered, not because of the cold. She felt like sunlight in his arms, bright and warm, and it was like every inch of his skin was burning.

He remembered carrying her like that before. She used to cling onto his bed— their bed, like how she had just clung onto him after having him inside her. He would laugh and pick her up to bring her to the bathroom, where he would let her hair flow and knot between his fingers in the water as her fingers traced the trail of each droplets sliding off him.

When he had gone up top with that train for the first time, she had thrown herself onto him and he had scooped her up and carried her to their car, where she would sit in his lap like the goddess she was and let him worship her with kisses.

She was still every bit a goddess as she lied in his arms, and how much he adored her. He wondered how long he would be able to hold her like that. They hadn't been so intimate for a long, long time. Way too long, he thought, how did they end up like that?

Maybe if he made the furnace hotter, or the neon light brighter, she would understand why he had built the city; he had done it so it would be more like home to her. He couldn't give her the sunlight, but he could give her the same heat and light from those glowing molten metals in those factories. A warmer and brighter underworld was all he could offer and if they were not going to make her stay, he hoped at least they would make her resent him a little bit less.

He was pulled back to reality when she shifted while he was walking up the stairs, causing him to nearly fall. Whining as he guided her back to his arms, she buried her nose in the crook of his neck. Her breath was torturingly hot and tickling against the tender skin there, sending a wave down his veins that made each hair of his stand and he almost lost his balance again.

One of his hand reached out to twist the door knob as he pushed open the door with the outside of his leg. Gently, he laid her in the bed and helped her change into her sleep wear by just concentrating. He would love to help her remove and put on each piece of clothing, but doing so would probably wake her, and that was the least thing he would want to do at the moment.

He turned to go once he was sure that she was fully covered under the sheets and her head was properly placed on the pillow. He would have a lot of work to do if he was going to enlarge that furnace or that power plant.

He could only take a mere step before his wrist was gripped firmly by a smooth hand.

“Don't go…” she mumbled with her eyes still shut, “come to bed.” She would mostly fall asleep again soon even if he decided to not join her in bed, he thought. But he couldn't bring himself to resist her invitation.

“Not going anywhere,” he whispered as he walked to the other side of the bed. After changing into his sleepwear, he joined her underneath the sheets and crept towards her warmth. 

Shifting closer to him, she wrapped her arms around him and he couldn't help but chuckle sadly as he returned the hold. Better enjoy what he could get when he still could. Chances were she wouldn't even remember what had happened as soon as he reopened his eyes. His eyelids were threatening to fall, but all he wanted to do was to savour the moment.

He tried his best to fight against his heavy eyelids, but the embrace of his wife was warm and to fall asleep in it was a tempting thought.

And so he did.


End file.
